I'm Sorry, Uncle Scar
by Lavender Springwood
Summary: Scar is not the only lion with an overdue apology. An alternate idea to the gorge scene.


**This is something that I always thought that the filmmakers for _The Lion King_ could have thrown in during the scene where Simba and Scar are talking down in the gorge. It gives us more insight about Simba's thoughts and feelings towards his uncle.  
The first half is obviously directly from the movie. The second half, is written by me. Reviews are welcome.**

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Today, was a significant day for Scar the lion. The day that would ignite a revolution. The day where he, and he alone, would single-handedly overthrow centuries worth of tradition, and change the Pride Lands forever.

He had been planning this for months. Carefully, painstakingly. If he got caught, or if somehow the secret got out, he would be dead. He would suffer the highest feasible penalty for regicide, treason, and betrayal to his whole family and community. It had to work. It was foolproof. At least, he hoped. If this whole elaborate scheme somehow backfired and failed, then Scar had _officially_ overestimated himself this time. Humility was never a common practice of his.

They were lumbering around in the hot gorge. His nephew—Simba—leapt about beside him, chasing a butterfly as they walked. Scar observed him silently. His nephew was completely oblivious to the "surprise" he wanted to show him. He was secretly delighted that that smug smile was about to be wiped clean off his face. Once he and his father were out of the picture, Scar would be able to seize the whole kingdom from right under everyone's noses.

The boy was an idiot.

Simba pranced around, grunting and panting to swat at the butterfly. It fluttered just above his head, playfully teasing him.

Simba eventually gave up and left the butterfly alone. It flittered away and up, up, out of the gorge. Simba sighed, then changed his object of interest to his uncle.

Scar continued to saunter beside him, head low, slinking along to the designated place they were going to. Simba smiled. He admired his uncle. At times, he could be a little dour and moody, but then again, who wasn't? He liked the way he was a born leader, and never took orders from anyone. He was a fierce lion. A natural fighter, but had wit as sharp as his claws. Simba was always amused by it. He liked how his uncle always knew what to say, when to say it, and charmed everyone around him with his charisma, and he could captivate anyone who listened to him long enough. He was a great uncle. The coolest.

One day, Simba hoped to be just like him.

They were approaching a withered acacia tree in the gorge. This was close enough, Scar thought. Now all he had to do, was leave the little heir here while he vanished, avoiding the pandemic that was about to take place.

Scar smiled.

"Now you wait here," he then told the cub beside him. "Your father has a marvelous surprise for you!"

Simba looked at Scar, his face lighting up.

"_Oooh...!_" he said. "What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?"

Simba found his way up onto a rock, turning around to face his uncle. He smirked right back, like he was offering a deal.

"If you tell me," Simba said, "I'll still _act_ surprised."

Scar shook his head, admonishing him with a low chuckle.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo...! You are such a naughty boy!"

The smile on Simba's face went away. He then prodded up to the edge of the rock, kneading his paws into Scar's chest, ushering him to tell him.

"C'mon, Uncle Scar..."

Scar shook his head, shaking his black mane. "No, no, no, no, no, this is just for you and your daddy." The elder lion's face fell.

"You know. A sort of father-son..." Scar paused. He thought, staring off into the distance, barely caring about his own concept.

"...Thing."

Simba frowned silently. Whatever this was, Scar sure was keen on keeping it a secret. A quiet moment passed between them, cicadas screeching. Scar then smiled jubilantly, returning his glance to Simba.

"Well!" he said. "I better go get him." Scar began to turn around with a grin, walking the other way. Simba's enthusiasm came back. He jumped off the rock to follow suite.

"I'll go with you!" he exclaimed. But the second he had, his uncle immediately spun around with a serious glare.

"No!" he blurted out.

Simba flailed, skimpering to a halt. Scar froze, looking into the little heir's eyes. He had alarmed his nephew. Scar began to panic on how to recover. He simply could not have _any_ suspicion from _anyone_ as to what he was doing. So he tried again, smiling gently, and chuckling reassuringly.

"Heh heh heh..." His face then went from very bright, to very flat.

"_No."_

Scar came forward and led Simba back to where he was. "Just... stay on this rock. You wouldn't want to end up in another mess like you did with the hyenas..."

All of the sudden, Simba's eyes had broadened. The hyenas! Oh no. He knew. He knew about the Elephant Graveyard incident that had happened a few weeks ago that Scar had specifically _told him_ not to go to. Somehow, he found out about it. His father must've told him. It was the only way he could have found out.

Simba gulped. He then wondered about how that conversation went. He could imagine the look on Uncle Scar's face once Mufasa had told him that he had deliberately disobeyed him. He must've been so disappointed.

Simba peered up guiltily.

"You know about that?"

Scar fondly rolled his eyes. Of course he knew. He was the one who set it up.

"Simba..." he said, "Everybody knows about that."

Simba's head sank even lower.

"Really...?"

Scar sat, nodding wisely.

"Ohhh, yes."

Everyone in the Pride Lands knew what he had done. Simba's eyes fell and settled on his little paws. He didn't mean to disobey his uncle. He just wanted to show his best friend Nala something cool. He wanted to prove to her—and to himself—that he could be brave. Like his dad.

But Mufasa had strictly told him to never go beyond the Northern borders. Why, his uncle _Scar_ had even warned him of the dangers there. He was so direct, so clear with Simba not to set foot into that territory. He had even asked Simba to promise him that he wouldn't. And he, his swindling little nephew, had the audacity to lie to him... telling his uncle Scar that he had nothing to worry about.

Simba continued to watch his paws. Looking back on it, he now saw how sneaky and underhanded that was. It was such a simple thing to do, and yet, he had betrayed his uncle Scar's trust. He wondered if he could ever forgive him.

Simba stared down at the rock in front of him. He felt worthless. He couldn't even look at his uncle.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Uncle Scar! It's just that—I wanted to show my dad how brave I was, and Nala wanted to go, and you... _you_—"

Scar's brow flinched. He didn't expect this, this sudden of attack of conscience from his nephew. He put on a quizzical expression and brought his head closer to his nephew.

"What are you talking about, Simba?" he queried him.

Simba looked up, his eyes glimmering more than usual.

"...I broke my promise I made to you. I _promised you _that I wouldn't go... but I lied to you and I did. I'm sorry, Uncle Scar, I didn't—I didn't _mean to_..."

Scar stared. This... _this_ was unexpected. The Elephant Graveyard incident was something that Scar had planned. Of course, the boy didn't know that, but he had set up the whole thing to get him killed. He would have loved it if those hyenas had eaten him alive. But since Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed had failed him, this plan... this whole new, elaborate scheme had to take place. Which was... in the next few minutes. So now here they were, down in the middle of a gorge, where Scar was about to initiate the biggest betrayal of the century...

And Simba, was apologizing, to _him?_

Scar gawped momentarily. He then moved his eyes around, trying to think of what to say next. Something that was always relatively easy for him.

"Well, Simba, I..." he began. He then trailed off, getting an idea.

Scar could use this moment to his advantage. This was an opportunity to toy with his guilt. The child obviously felt bad about the crime he had committed. He could inadvertently use this to make him feel even _worse_ about the events soon to unfold in the near future. It was a surefire way to get Simba to leave the Pride Lands for good.

Scar gave a tiny smirk. He had a chance to be the bigger person in power. The dark lion decided to play along, and he suddenly put on a ridiculously phony scowl, wagging his head shamefully.

"...Well, I'm _very disappointed_ in your actions, Simba...!" Scar poshly admonished him. This was one thing that Scar always liked about himself: that he was gifted with the remarkable ability to act.

Scar raised his head to look down on him. "Did I not specifically_ tell you _not to wander about in the Northern borders, hmm? Have we learned not to do that again?"

Someone older or wiser might have seen right through Scar's melodramatic charade. But Simba, was naïve, and short-sighted... like all children. The boy was unbelievably easy to dupe.

Simba continued to stare down softly at the rock in front of him.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Uncle Scar. I won't do it again. I promise."

Once he said these words, Scar raised himself up, presenting the nicest, friendliest smile. "_There's_ a good boy...! Now, you wait here, while I go and fetch your father. Uh, perhaps work on that little roar of yours while I'm gone?"

Simba's head came up. He hadn't worked on his roar for a while. Maybe, perhaps, he could give it another shot.

"Oh." Simba brought his eyes down once more. "Sure thing, Uncle Scar."

Their conversation ended. A smile slithered onto Scar's face. And as the old lion began to turn away to leave the gorge, one last entreaty from his nephew came up from behind him.

"Uncle Scar..."

The lion stopped, his back turned. He turned slightly, telling his nephew that he was listening. A moment passed by. He waited, and finally heard Simba ask one last question.

"I hope we can still be friends..."

The lion did not move, and an odd, quiet silence filled in. It made Simba wonder what he was thinking. Then, out of the corner of his mouth, he saw Scar smile. The kind of smile a pseudo friend would give.

"Of course, Simba."

He then departed to give the signal.

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**So, what do you think? I have recently been trying to improve on my writing skills, and thought this oneshot would be the perfect opportunity to practice. Some of the things I have been trying to work on are connections of ideas between paragraphs, and my personal narrative. Feel free to R&R!**


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